It’s You



It’s you who I adore,
I want you more and more.
I’d even be your whore,
Your own Pussy Galore;

Ignore your wretched snores,
Believe your life’s folk lore,
Let lie our settled scores.

I’d empty out my stores
And meet you at my core,
Where you’ll find even more.

I’ve told you this before:
It’s you who I adore.

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